I WOKE UP with a slight hangover. My boy Noel dropped by and I was rather thrilled to see him, particularly because he was toting two cases of Samuel Adams...do you know Sam? He’s one of my bestest of friends. He’s always there for you when you need him, he’s not emotionally unavailable like so many so called friends are…whenever you have worries or fears he has this magical power to erase the pain away. He’s my therapist, my advisor, my personal consultant and he always makes ugly people look more attractive than they actually are.

I started advising Noel to start dating around proactively, since he’s gone through a relatively difficult breakup. He's quite resistant to the idea. He was thinking he was being intrusive because it was V-day, and I laughed..."Everyday's Valentines Day for my gal!" I said, and it was quite true. I think he’s still in the wallowing stage, which takes a hell of a long time to get through. I remember mine with my ex, it was horrendous….and that wasn’t even a good sane or healthy one! I guess there’s very good reason a guy must suffer the pains and tribulations of dating girls who turn out to be serious byiatches. It teaches you that beauty lasts about as long as a fart in the wind. My wallowing was so, I don’t know…an incomprehensible blur of lurid imagery. Drinking alone in dark uninteresting bars; waking up with unholy headaches and intolerable agonies, praying to the Almighty himself to purge you of that old familiar feeling, or simply trying to lose yourself in the thrill of the hunt. I was like a social predator in a way, seeking out my own Anabel Lee but finding next to nothing.

They say not to search for love, but whoever says that has never tasted it. Love is patient, but finding love takes incredible impatience, relentlessness, resourcefulness and great precision. It’s never easy like in the movies, and if it wasn’t as rare as a orchid in the desert then everyone would have it and being authorities in getting it now wouldn’t they? So next time you hear that annoying piece of un-wisdom just blast the idiot who tells it.
Anyways, Noel will be sauntering off to the Philippines right after me, I’m sure he’ll forget all about his woes of the heart here in shietcago. There’s plenty of sweet looking hunnies to be had over there. He kept asking me if I was ready to settle, and I chuckled…’Uh, haven’t I already?’ well I have. I can’t imagine myself being single, having to tirelessly pursue chicks who aren’t even half the woman my significant other is. My new passion, my new purpose is chasing my dreams. I’ve got the girl already, now I need to make my first million…no seriously, I do. I’ve got enough crazy shit going on in my brain to fill up Millennium Park.
So I joined one of those listing sites called Blog Catalog. Immediately upon being accepted I saw all of these so called bloggers who were actually money grubbers…you know, they get you to goto their blogs and beg you shamelessly to click on their ads. Fuck that shit! I don’t have one muthafucken ad on my blog, I don’t use Google ad sense, and I don’t care to either. I don’t envision visitors wanting to click on ads that lead to penis enlargement pills, valestra, Viagra, or buying cheap property on some island resort in the Bahamas.

Labels: Art of Life, art of love